Insider
by occaecation
Summary: When Minerva McGonagall becomes part of an auror squad stationed at Hogwarts in 1944, it doesn't take long for her alliances to shift away from the Ministry. The following months lead her and once-mentor Albus Dumbledore on a quest to discover what role Grindelwald has in this supposedly muggle war. Features endless character cameos, the origin of the Giant Squid, and AD/MM
1. Chapter I

**August 26, 1944.**  
**Ministry of Magic, Auror Department.**

A young woman with jet-black hair sat stiffly, facing a large mahogany desk. The chair behind it was vacant, but the woman let her cool gaze bore into it anyway. She found herself, as always, claustrophobic in the windowless room, its tightly packed shelves and large cabinets closing her in. Light permeated the room in the form of a single candelabra, reflected in polished mirrors on every wall until the room was bright enough to see the large cork-board behind the desk, which was overflowing with newspaper cutouts, pictures covered in red writing, letters, addresses, numbers-

"You know why you are here, Miss McGonagall?" A voice interrupted her observations as Minerva continued to look ahead. The woman behind her held a paperweight in one hand, as if weighing it, as she gazed into one of the mirrors. Reflected was the view of a second mirror, in which she could clearly see her interrogatee's impassive profile.

"No, ma'am, I do not," answered Minerva, speaking clearly to a clipping which showed a picture of a tall, light-haired woman pacing in front of a blackboard, occasionally jabbing at it or gesturing around her, as if enthusiastically making points.

The other woman set down the paperweight and turned around, tall heels clicking on the wooden floor as she moved behind the desk. "But you have a notion," she stated, leaning forward slightly and spreading her long-fingered hands over the scorch marks and scratches that scarred the desk top. In contrast, the woman showed no sign of damage. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tightly twisted knot, emphasising the strong jaw and cheekbones of her Latin-skinned face. Her Muggle suit was immaculate, the skirt falling to the perfect length. Minerva stayed focused on the picture, slightly to the side of the piercing grey eyes examining her. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," the second woman clarified, without so much as glancing behind her. "She's being tailed, security precaution."

Minerva was now forced to meet her gaze. "Yes," she answered simply. Silence rang out, a beckon to continue. "You want me to stay close to Professor Dumbledore."

"Astute as ever. And why would I pick you for that job, McGonagall?" she inquired, turning to examine the cork-board, hands clasped behind her back. Minerva's hand twitched, ready to get on with the pile of paperwork waiting at her desk. Caterdily's drama took far too long to deal with.

"The Professor and I were close at Hogwarts. He was my mentor, and also a good friend," she answered, as if reciting prose.

"Your inferences are correct." The older woman turned to face her once more. "Most importantly, Dumbledore trusts you. The two of you have already hit it off. I expect weekly reports on him. I want to know anytime he goes anywhere, be it London or the loo. You know his behavior, his patterns, routines, and as much of what makes him tick as anyone. The second he begins to act even the slightest bit off-color, there had better be an owl on my desk. Do you understand me, Miss McGonagall?" She was leaning so far forward that she was half across the desk, intent on the woman in front of her.

"Yes," Minerva answered, still meeting the woman's cold gaze. "Ma'am," she added, when the eyes in front of her did not move. A second later, they finally blinked.

"Good. Good," she replied, straightening up. "Another thing." Minerva's eyes, which had come to rest on the desk in front of her, again shot up to the woman's face. "I understand, from your behavior in the past, that your bonds with Dumbledore may overcome those that you hold with the Ministry, with myself...maybe even with your job. However, you should know, Miss McGonagall, that if you lie I will find out." She turned her back to Minerva yet again and flicked her wand at the cork-board, which transformed instantly into a map with tiny red dots roaming around it. "I can track you, anywhere you go," she continued, body angled so that she could look back at Minerva, "and my staff aren't my only source of information. Lie, and it will cost you- and him- dearly." Minerva's mouth thinned, and for almost a minute the two women glared at each other, daring the other to look away. They were interrupted by a quick knock at the door, which opened to reveal a short man holding a huge stack of folders and papers.

"Coralina, the minister wishes for you to look over these-" he began, looking down and sorting through the stack to pull off the top quarter.

She snatched the papers out of his hands. "It's Caterdily, to you, and in the future you'd do well to knock before entering," she glared, slapping the paperwork onto her desk without looking at it. The man looked shocked, papers threatening to fall out of his arms, before gaining composure.

"Of course, Ms. Caterdily, ma'am, ever so sorry," he apologized, shuffling away. "Until next time, eh?" he had reached the door and was about to head off before Caterdily stopped him.

"Wait! Give me that red folder," she demanded, reaching out a hand.

"Err... This is supposed to go to Harrison-" he stuttered, pulling out the folder in question and looking back and forth between it and Caterdily.

"Harrison is in my department, which means I have every right to see what is in that folder. Hand it over. Now!" she snapped as he hesitate, then scuttled back over and handed it to her. She flipped it open, snorted, and threw it in the rubbish bin.

The man, who was now wide-eyed, ran a hand though his hair, making it stand up. "The minister had flagged that as most important-"

"The minister," retorted Caterdily, with an air of great finality, "is wasting his time. It's a red herring, and if he wishes to disagree, he picked the wrong woman for this job. If he has any complaints, he may meet me personally."

The man was obviously distressed. "He had it on good source-" he fretted, again running his hand through his wild hair.

"Armando Dippet is a headmaster, not a private investigator, much as he'd like to think otherwise. He couldn't handle attacks on his own school, and therefore does not need to be worrying himself about bigger matters." She sat down behind her desk, pulled a quill, inkjar and a pair of small, oval reading glasses out of the drawer in front of her and took the first file down from the stack. The man stood still for a moment, opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it, and left hurriedly.

Minerva continued to sit in her stony silence, eyebrows slightly raised as she pulled lightly at the hem of her sleeve.

"You are dismissed, Miss McGonagall," Caterdily injected into the silence, flipping a page and peering over the glasses at Minerva, who stood up quickly and strode across the room. "Shut the door on your way out, if you would."

Minerva pulled the heavy door closed behind her. Coralina Caterdily immediately reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, conjuring up an ashtray before using the tip of her wand to light one and taking a deep drag. She breathed out, watching the smoke drift in tendrils above her desk, before fishing the red folder out of the rubbish. She had little faith in Armando's judgement., but he wouldn't send any information to the ministry lightly...

Minerva McGonagall did not relax until she was back in her cubicle, collapsing into the rather hard leather chair that took up most of the space in it and letting out a long breath. That woman... she shook her head and began to let her thoughts run freely again. For a second it was hard, after so long of trying to think of nothing, the most effective (and still barely successful) form of Occlumency that she could practice against Caterdily. As thoughts began to trickle back into her mind, she mentally thanked Dumbledore for all the lessons, much as she had despised them at the time.

"Someone's obviously been in the principal's office," sniggered a rather short, curly-haired witch from beside her.

"Mph," was Minerva's only reply. Her face was in her hands, elbows resting on the shelf that served as a desk, massaging her temples. She always had the worst headaches after dealing with Caterdily.

"Here," said the witch, slipping a hand into her robes and tossing a small vial high into the air. Minerva sat up and easily caught it. She automatically waved the bottle beneath her nose to smell the fumes before taking the potion. She wished she could say that she trusted her co-workers, but most were either idiots or too ambitious for their own good, and all enjoyed a good prank. The witch who had given her the potion fit mostly into the prankster category, which perhaps made the potion all the more potentially dangerous.

The potion fumes, however, smelled perfectly normal for a migraine potion, albeit a bit strong, so Minerva took a small sip and re-corked the bottle, thinking of the board in Caterdily's office, before passing it back and turning to look at the witch as her headache subsided. Her name was Stephanie DeMattos, the only other female auror in the department (with the exception of Caterdily). She was sitting on a chair vastly different than Minerva's- it was smaller, for one thing, and much puffier, but most noticeably she had removed the legs. Instead, a single pole attached to the center of the seat, connected on its other end to a Muggle roller-skate that had once been a portkey. The result was a chair that was rather unsightly, constantly falling over, and could roll. After several stabilizing charms, it mostly stayed upright, but there were still crashes coming from the cubicle next to Minerva's fairly often.

"Thank you," she said. There were no longer any traces of a headache in her mind, but the intense frustration was still there. She couldn't afford to lose her job. Under other circumstances, she could quit and get a new one, no problem, but with all the job cuts that had been happening, well, everywhere, that was an impossible solution. Not that she particularly wanted to quit, either- as much as she despised Caterdily and her methods, she had worked hard for this.  
"So, someone's got a secret mission," said Stephanie, grinning as she tucked the vial away. "Do tell." She sat back and Minerva winced, waiting for the unstable chair to fall over.

"Maybe I'm missing out on the new terms, but I think you might have misinterpreted the meaning of the word 'secret'," replied Minerva, eyebrows raised as she flicked through the mail on her desk. Nothing interesting.  
"Damn, I knew I should have put some Veritiserium in that potion," said Stephanie as Minerva picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Really though, what's going on?"

"Couldn't tell you if I wanted to," replied Minerva, adding a Muggle paper and a quill to the stack. She pulled a red ink jar closer and uncapped it, soaking the quill. "My job's on the line." She began to read, quill in hand.

"Oh, please, Caterdily tells that to everyone," replied Stephanie, unfazed as she picked at one of her nails. "We're already understaffed and overworked."  
"I can tell an empty threat from a substantial one, thank you," answered McGonagall curtly, circling a headline in the paper, then another. Stephanie looked a bit bothered.

"Weird. You're one of the best in here, I'd say," she said, frowning. "Though I don't know why you even bother with those," she added, waving a hand towards the paper. "It's a separate war."

"There's no way to tell that," Minerva contradicted, underlining a passage. "Just because wizards haven't gotten involved here doesn't mean they haven't elsewhere. Grindelwald plays dirty. I wouldn't be surprised if he was behind a great deal more than we give him credit for."

"Yeah, well I doubt he's the reason for-" Stephanie squinted to read upside down, "Romania turning against Germany, or America not agreeing to attack them."

"You can't know that. When things are ignored is when situations reach their worst-" began Minerva, lowering her paper.

"I thought that was before they got better?" interrupted Stephanie.  
"-and we're doing far too much ignoring. How do we know someone's not controlling Eisenhower, and that's why he won't agree to attack?" she finished, looking at Stephanie as if daring her to fight back.

"Hmm, let's see, someone is controlling Eisenhower- the entire American population, which doesn't want this all to be happening again!" retorted the brunette, as if pointing out the obvious. "Germany's never attacked them because they know America will go all Revolutionary War on their asses, so America's held its grudge only with Japan because they don't particularly want to do that either."

"That still doesn't-" Minerva began, but was cut off by a man in his mid-thirties who had several deep scars on his face and arms, as well as already greying hair, and another man, younger, who had a mane of golden hair and bright eyes.  
"Enough chat, ladies, we're leaving and you're staying here if you don't get yer arses up in the next twenty seconds," stated the first man, bluntly. Minerva shoved the papers into her bag, recapped the ink bottle, and after a second threw the ink and quill in too, then stood up, wand in hand. She was shorter than both the men, though barely. Stephanie stood up, too, twirling her wand.  
"You really should work on your manners, Alastor, you'd be amazed at what saying 'please' can get you these days," she commented.

"DeMattos, I am your superior, and as such I demand you for once in your life to shut your damn trap!" the man growled back. Minerva rolled her eyes and pushed her chair as far into the cubicle as it would go. She wouldn't be back for quite a while. "Now, time for the two of you to prove your identities-"  
"Madman, you just saw me walk out of Caterdily's office ten minutes ago-" began McGonagall, referring to Alastor Moody by his widely known nickname, at the same time that Stephanie was ranting,

"Of course, we just marched into the Ministry and took over two aurors without anyone noticing, aren't we so clever-"

"Silence!" he ordered them, "And constant vigilance! It would be reckless not to check, just think! McGonagall, how am supposed to know Caterdily didn't curse you-"

"Because she's already Satan, Grindelwald himself could take over her and she'd still be nicer-" the ginger-headed man stated, looking almost bored.

"Scrimgeour, this does not involve you! And DeMattos, you went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago-" Moody pointed out, training a finger towards her.

"What the hell, you monitor my bathroom breaks?" Stephanie looked part shocked, part disturbed, and mostly outraged.

"Don't take it personally," suggested a well-built blond wizard as he passed by, carrying several books under his arm. "He does it to everyone." Stephanie still looked angry.

Moody pointed his wand at Stephanie. "When was our first mission together, and what was it?"

Stephanie made a great show of rolling her eyes before she answered. "During my training; the mission was a fake where I had to show what I would do if you turned out to be a traitor. I was one of only two people who passed, and the only to manage to beat the hell out of you," smirked Stephanie. Really it hadn't been all that grand, she had accidentally made the ceiling collapse on top of both of them, but still...

He grunted his satisfaction and moved his wand toward Minerva. "Under what circumstances did you and I meet?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "At Hogwarts. You were in your 7th year, it was my first. You were running down the hall, screaming bloody murder, covered in flames. It wasn't until you plowed me over and stopped to apologise that I realized they weren't real, it was all a prank."

"Good." Moody affirmed, ignoring Stephanie's raucous laughter and the curious look Scrimgeour was giving him and shoving his wand up his sleeve. "We've got a portkey to catch. Hurry, you lot."


	2. Chapter II

**Thanks ever so much for all the reviews and love for the story. As some of you may know from hanging around the AD/MM scene for the past decade, this story is now almost 9 and has been rewritten several times. It's amazing to hear all the support so many years after our beloved ship has been demolished and the fandom waned a bit.**

**August 26, 1944.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Front Gates.**

Armando Dippet checked his worn pocket watch- 08:25. A storm was brewing around them- the sky was a dark grey, and the winds whipped the grounds making the trees in the Forbidden Forest sway ominously.

"She's going to be late," remarked the curly-haired man beside him. He leaned back, lounging against a sandstone pedestal that held up a statue of a stone boar. "Late for her first day. I told you that letting Albus hire someone would be a disaster."

Armando sighed and wished for the hundredth time that Galatea Merrithought hadn't retired. It wasn't that he didn't deserve a quiet life; rather the opposite- sixty years of teaching merited a nice break from society. However, finding a new staff member was hard, especially when one rather important member of the faculty was already in a harsh mood.

"I am standing right here, Quinn," remarked a third man from Armando's other side. He didn't even bother to look at Quinn, deigning instead set his electric blue eyes on the roof of a small inn in Hogsmeade, which could hardly be seen in the dismal weather. His auburn hair came down to his shoulders, a vast improvement from its unreasonable lengths in the past months.

"She won't be late," replied Armando confidently, more out of a desire to pacify his employees than any fleeting expectations. Quinn rolled his eyes.

"You are altogether too trusting, you know that?" he asked. "You too, Albus. One day, it will came back and bite you in the-"

Quinn was interrupted by the appearance of two trunks and a wicker basket. Armando smiled at Quinn and turned to face the gate behind them. He muttered a few rhythmical countercharms, then flicked his wand at the luggage, which disappeared once more. A few moments later, a pale young woman with long blonde hair appeared barely a metre from where the luggage had been with a small pop. Armando smiled again.

"Professor LaBorde, I presume?" he asked.

"Please, call me River," she replied, smiling as she shook his proffered hand.

"Of course. I am Armando Dippet, Headmaster, and this," he gestured to the blonde man on his left, "is Quinn Grindelwald, Charms Professor."

Armando observed the way a spark lit in the woman's eyes at the name Grindelwald, the name of the Germanic dark wizard who had been attempting to take over Europe for the past four and a half years. Quinn was also watching her carefully.

"Nice to meet you, Professor River," he said, offering his hand. She returned the gesture, surprise smoothed out of her face, though Armando could swear he still saw the spark of intense curiosity in her grey eyes.

"Likewise, I'm sure," she replied, and at least appeared to mean every inch of it.

"I would assume that you've heard of my dear uncle, who has been wreaking havoc across the world?" Quinn continued.

"Oh, a few things here and there," she responded wryly.

"I assure you that I share none of his beliefs- much as the Ministry would like to believe." Armando mentally groaned. He knew the situation that the man was in, but he wondered if Quinn realized that his brashness could scare off people just as easily as his name.

"I understand," River replied obligingly. Quinn smiled wanly at her. He seemed to be thinking of saying something else.

"And you already know Albus," Armando said before he could act on the idea.  
River nodded again and shook Albus' hand. Armando only half listened as they exchanged pleasantries, though he couldn't help glancing at the new professor every few seconds. She was younger than he had expected- true, Albus had said she was in her 'late twenties,' but she didn't look a day over twenty-four... He shook himself out of his thoughts and quickly looked away from River and Albus. He saw Quinn looking at him, smirking. "Don't you even start," he warned the charms Professor, who chuckled and looked away, moderately happier.

The horizon seemed to be getting closer by the second as thicker and thicker clouds rolled over them. The wind had kicked up even more, so that the grass around them had begun to ripple as if it was water. A look at Albus confirmed that he had removed his hat before the wind could more than threaten to do so.

"If you don't mind, Professor LaBorde, we'll be out here for a while longer," he said, raising his voice slightly over the wind. "The Ministry has insisted that a few aurors be stationed around Hogwarts, for extra protection. They should be here any moment now." As soon as Armando spoke, the air shimmered and four people appeared, clutching a dirty rag.

"Hands up!" roared one of them, immediately pointing a wand at the teachers. They all raised their arms, River rather hesitantly.

"Abandoning all pretense, are we, Alastor?" asked Armando, addressing the man who appeared to lead the group.

The man grunted. "You never know, Armando. Or are you?" he reconsidered, narrowing his eyes.

"I assure you, I am most definitely Armando Idolises Dippet, former Potions and Astronomy teacher, Ravenclaw, and the first person to teach you how to make Polyjuice Potion," replied Armando easily. "Or, should I note, as the Ministry suggests, that my favourite flavour of jam is blackberry?" Quinn snorted from beside him, and Moody gave him a glare that clearly stated the jam had not been his idea before moving his wand towards Albus.

"For the love of Merlin, Alastor, do we have to go through this every time we go anywhere?" Armando looked at the speaker, a shortish woman with curly black hair. He saw the new professor tense in front of him before the woman spoke again.

"Hullo, River. Nice to see you alive, as you haven't bothered to write for the last three days. Thought you'd died." Her voice was strong, confident, and rather careless, something he was surprised to find in an auror.

"Stephanie?" The woman grinned.

"All right, all right, we'll have enough time for petty reunions later! DeMattos, don't move!" The woman rolled her eyes. "You! Who are you?" Alastor Moody's wand had moved from Albus to River.

"Alastor, meet our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, River LaBorde. Professor, meet Alastor 'Mad' Moody." He knew she wouldn't inquire after the nickname, no one who took more than a second's look at Moody would find the need. Aside from the man's behaviour, scars, some deeper than others, crossed his face and hands- not too many, but more than most people gained in a lifetime.

"Defense, eh?" asked Moody. Stephanie DeMattos was still grinning behind him, and Armando had a nasty idea that he knew what was coming. The thought to step in between Moody and LaBorde quickly flashed to the front of his mind, but Moody's reflexes were too sharp. "Stupefy!"

In a split second River had her wand in her hand and had cast a silent shield charm. For a moment, everyone stared at her, and fiddled with the tips of her hair nervously. She seemed to sense Armando's gaze upon her face the most, and turned slightly to face him. "I, er, keep my wand up my sleeve," she admitted.

"Well, I see Albus did indeed pick the right woman for the job." Quinn smirked and DeMattos laughed raucously as Armando made a concentrated effort not to smile at the look on Moody's face.

"Alastor," he began, only half-faking his irritation, "I would prefer it is you didn't try to kill my teachers-"

"Nonsense, a stunner wouldn't have killed her! Constant vigilance!" Armando glared at Moody, as lightning lit up in the clouds above them. "Fine, have it your way. Hire incompetent teachers, like I care..."

"We need to get inside and reseal the gates," commented Quinn. He'd also noticed the lightning, and as he spoke a rumble of thunder shook the ground. Armando nodded and used his wand to tap the wrought iron gate behind him while muttering a short incantation, and after a second they swung open.  
He noticed that Alastor's eyes were still on Quinn as they all walked through the gates. Once everyone was through, Armando waved his wand, and they closed again. He again began muttering, this time much a much longer incantation, followed by several more, before waving his wand for a final time. For a moment the air around them sparkled with gold, then a flash of light returned everything to normalcy.

"Well, now that that's been cleared up," said Stephanie brightly, clapping her hands as Armando nodded at Albus, who stepped up to the gate and began speaking in a language that sounded more primitive than the one Armando had used, waving his want in long arcs, "I think it's time for introductions." She looked imploringly at Armando.

"Right. Professor LaBorde-"

"-River-"

"-River, this is Rufus Scrimgeour," Armando gestured to a lanky-looking wizard with a mane of thick hair, "and Minerva McGonagall." A tall, green eyed witch next to Scrimgeour nodded briskly. "And I assume you all ready know Miss... er..."

"Miss DeMattos. I didn't go to Hogwarts, got shipped off to the Americas during the school year so that any havoc wrecked wouldn't sully the good family name. Anyway, River and I are old friends," replied the witch, bouncing on the balls of her feet. It seemed she didn't much enjoy being still.

It was then that, with a simultaneous crack of thunder and roar of wind, the clouds finally let loose their load. Armando could hear Alastor shouting directions at the aurors over the torrential downpour.

"Scrimgeour, with me! McGonagall, go with DeMattos- DeMattos, put your hood up, this is no time for frolicking in the rain! You two, go up to the castle with the professors, you'll be-" the rest of his words were drowned by a sudden gust.

Armando looked around, but everyone was now out of sight, either from the sheets of rain or having made an escape back up to the castle- except for Professor LaBorde, who looked rather amused and hardly bothered by the interruption. Patient. Definitely a necessary quality. He quickly pulled off the thin cloak he was wearing. "Here," he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind and rain whilst attempting to cover her with it, wishing he could do more.

"No, it's okay, really-" she insisted, waving him off. She flicked her wand, and a large umbrella appeared in mid-air. She struggled to catch it with her free hand and hold it up. However, no sooner had she done so than, just as Armando knew it would, the wind swirled around them, pushing water from all sides and rendering the covering completely useless. To add insult to injury, a particularly strong gust turned the umbrella inside-out, then yanked it out of LaBorde's hand completely. She looked a bit put-out, before sighing. "Never mind, then."

"Pity. It was a rather interesting color," he replied, looking at her straight-faced, eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yes, I quite thought so," she mused, equally sincere as she her eyes met his. They looked at each other for a second, then both laughed softly. He again offered his cloak, which she accepted more out of propriety than anything. They both knew the thin material would hardly be any help against the vertical flood taking place. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Well, it's a long walk. We'd best get started," Armando admitted, then offered her his arm. He hoped the action wasn't too forward, and that if it was she would pass it off as a friendly gesture- which was what it was, he assured himself. More or less.

Quinn cast a protective charm around himself. After two years of experimentation, he had finally succeeded in mobilizing the impervious charm, mostly by combining it with a rare shield charm used by Japanese wizards. Together, they needed only a few minor adjustments to do the job quite effectively. It had given him no small amount of pride to see the article that he had written in Challenges in Charming, his ninth to date, and it was, he thought, oddly satisfying to be using the charm now. Of course, the Japanese charm had cost him rather a lot by his standards- five hours that he had spent unconscious in a combination of the Great Hall and Hospital Wing and, more importantly, his dignity. The benefits were finally starting to outweigh the cost.

He rubbed his chin subconsciously. He still wasn't quite used to, as his fellow professor Nashita Vandom put it, his 'stupid little beard.' He smiled slightly. He wasn't sure that he even liked it, but it was worth doing just about anything to agonize the usually reserved Astronomy teacher.

Speaking of teachers, the new one hadn't started too much at his name, a first. She genuinely seemed to be able to put the information aside. Either she's a supporter, or a damn good actress. His instinct told him that 'actress' was more likely. Maybe I could get Albus to use Legilimency, see what she's really thinking, Quinn pondered briefly before dismissing the thought. Assuming the woman could act well, she'd probably be a more than adept Occlumens. And there was the small detail that Albus would never abuse his powers in such a way.

Not to say Quinn wasn't powerful or studious enough to be a Legilimens himself– far from the opposite. He had begun studying the careful art several years ago, but after some time gave it up as a bad job. It was fairly easy, once he had applied himself, but he became bored with it. Knowing what people were thinking took the fun, out of things, and the truth was more than often less exciting or noble than anyone would admit. And then, he had discovered upon probing the mind of a dazed seventh-year during one of his classes, there were some things you simply didn't want to know.

His thoughts had led him to the base of the castle. The large oak front doors were slightly ajar, and wind whistled through them. Quinn cast off the charm as he walked through the entrance into the abnormally empty Entrance Hall and started up the stairs towards the staff room, observed only by a fluffy, dark grey cat that miaowed loudly from the ground floor.

Minerva McGonagall was debating switching to her animagus form. After considering that the change back to human form would leave her drenched to her underclothes, she decided to stay as she was.

She felt a hand on her arm, and quickly spun around to face the familiar auburn-haired man behind her. His half moon spectacles where dotted with water, and his hair was quickly matting down, but he didn't seem to mind.

"One minute," she said, meeting Albus' eyes for only a second before turning back and trying to concentrate on what Moody was saying.

"...You two, go up to the castle with the professors, you'll be patrolling and guarding them and the students, while Scrimgeour and I work out here, setting up all of the charms and patrolling the grounds-"

"Why can't I be out here-" started Stephanie. Minerva could hardly see her through the rain, though she was less than a foot away, but nevertheless motioned for her to shut up. The sooner Moody finished, the sooner she'd be able to get inside and out of this dratted water.

"Because I said so! And put your damn hood up, I don't want you catching hepatitis-"

"-It's hypothermia, sir-"

"-Don't be a smart ass, Scrimgeour- and DeMattos, if you make one more complaint, I'll replace you!"

"With who? Harrison? Ha!" Minerva aimed her wand at Stephanie through all the grey that obscured her vision, but Moody made his point first.

"GET UP TO THAT CASTLE!" he roared, clearly livid though Minerva could see neither hide nor hair of him.

"Fine!" hissed Stephanie as she stalked off, her hood still down.

With a shock, Minerva felt the rain stop. She looked up to see sheets of water running off of a bubble-like structure.

"I was beginning to think I'd never see you again, Miss McGonagall," came a deep, contented voice from behind her. He hadn't moved his hand.

Minerva turned around, a small smile on her face, to see Albus looking at her and smiling, his eyes twinkling. He had all ready cast a drying charm on himself.

"Since when do you call me 'Miss McGonagall, Albus?" she asked, pretending to the best of her ability to be unfazed, though he looked so hopeful, even a bit expectant, that she couldn't help wrapping an arm around his waist, a half- embrace that he returned warmly.

"Wonderful question," he replied, releasing her and chuckling. "Shall we?" he added, offering her his arm and waving the other hand in the general direction of Hogwarts. Minerva stared at him for a moment.

"Impervious charms can't move," she pointed out, eyebrows raised. He smiled knowingly.

"Walk with me." Sighing, Minerva linked her arm through his and took a step forward along with him. The bubble around them followed, and Minerva stared at it in wonder. The shield itself was invisible, so water ran down the sides in thick sheets, ripples appearing where particularly heavy drops struck. "You, Minerva, have obviously not been keeping up with your reading. Not getting Challenges in Charming anymore?"

"No," she admitted, "I haven't been reading much of anything, really. Alastor, Caterdily and the Department in general keep us all busy; we're so understaffed, and-" she sighed. "What am I even talking about? You don't want to listen to me complain."

"It's good to hear anything from you, Minerva," he replied seriously, smiling at her and lightly patting her hand. She smiled wanly back, a tinge of regret on her face. "But I can't imagine you've given up reading entirely," Albus continued, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

"Well... I do always make time for Transfiguration Today," she confessed.

"Really? Why only it?" he teased. She'd made it clear since her third year that she was after his job, and planned on taking it as soon as he became headmaster. The idea of that ever happening, however, was laughable; even ignoring the fact that Dippet was five years younger than him and well-suited enough to the job to carry it for the rest of his life, Albus wasn't sure that he'd want to give up being in the classroom.

"I find it has better-looking contributors," she teased back, trying to hide a smile. Albus seemed to have an article in the paper every other issue, at the least.

"Certainly not! Challenges in Charming has Barnaby Lockhart. Quite the heart-throb, if I'm not mistaken," Albus pointed out thoughtfully, watching her amused expression.

"A blonde? Really, Albus, I'm beginning to think you don't know me at all."

River stepped into the rather drafty Entrance Hall with Professor Dippet. The headmaster had been terribly wrong to suggest that they couldn't get any more wet; River felt as if she was soaked down to her bones.

She unhooked her arm from the man's, but stayed standing close to him, looking, awestruck, around the large hall. The castle was...intimidating. There was really no other word for it. It had loomed up ahead through the rain for several minutes before they reached it, incredibly large and menacing, at first only a shadow through the pouring rain.

Speaking of the rain, it hadn't let up- not in the least. In fact, River was almost positive that if there was any way for it to come down harder, the weather would choose that path. Now, standing in the hall, water was dripping down her face and she was shivering slightly. She pushed back the hood of Armando's sopping cloak before removing it completely, sending a great deal of water to the floor, which joined the massive and growing puddle in which the two were standing.

"Thank you," laughed River, casting a strong drying charm on the cloak before handing it back to him, warm to the touch, as if it had been laying out in front of a fire.

"My pleasure," he replied, taking it as he cast a drying charm over himself and smoothed his hair back absent mindedly. "I'm sorry I couldn't have done more."

"It's fine," she assured him, following his lead and casting a drying charm on herself. The urge to shiver was instantly replaced by a pleasant warmth, but her hair was another matter. It was still dripping and, upon touch, she discovered that her plait was wet to the center. She cast several drying charms in a row on it, until her scalp felt like it was on fire but her hair was blessedly dry. Now far more comfortable, River took a closer look at the hall, and felt Dippet looking at her as her eyes darted around, from the high ceiling to the doors leading to the Great Hall, then to the Marble Staircase.

"Impressive," she whispered, at a loss for words.

"Isn't it?" replied Dippet, watching the incredulous look on her face.

Just then Minerva McGonagall walked in with Professor Dumbledore. Both were completely dry. Minerva glanced at River's hair, which was smoking slightly.

"How did you-" Armando began, but stopped at Albus' amused expression.

"A new charm of Quinn's. He published it in Challenges in Charming a few weeks ago, though he hasn't said anything about it... Quite unusual for him," Albus mused. His eyes twinkled jovially as he watched River and Armando, who still looked a bit damp, and silence reigned for a moment before Armando spoke again.

"Our Charms Professor has been out of sorts lately," he commented for the benefit of Minerva and River.

River noticed that the auror looked rather uncomfortable before she spoke. Once she opened her mouth, however, hesitation disappeared. "The new department head, Caterdily, ordered Moody to keep a close eye on Professor Grindelwald."

Armando nodded. "Thought he might. Thank you, Minerva." She looked a little surprised at his use of her first name, and he smiled. "As I am no longer your teacher, feel free to call me Armando." They fell silent again as Stephanie walked in, sopping wet.

"This place is huge," she said to Minerva, casting a drying charm on her hair. "How are we supposed to guard it?" She cast another drying charm, this time on her cloak.

"Hogwarts has many of its own protections. If anyone's coming, we should know at least ten minutes beforehand- we just have to focus on strategies." Minerva was confident in her assessment. Anyway, she had a strongly evidenced feeling that Caterdily had ulterior motives to protecting the castle.

Stephanie nodded, then crossed the room to embrace River. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Three years, at least," she agreed. "You could have told me that you'd be here!"  
Stephanie laughed. "I thought it would be a nice surprise."

River turned at the sound of footsteps. An oriental woman was descending the steps, her black hair swishing behind her as she balanced a large stack of papers.

"Ah, Nashita," Armando greeted her. "River, Miss DeMattos, meet Nashita Vandom, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Ravenclaw, and our Astronomy instructor. Nashita, Professor River LaBorde and auror Stephanie DeMattos. And you remember Minerva McGonagall, of course."

Nashita nodded and balanced the papers carefully on one hand, reaching the other out to River.

"Nice to meet you," said River, slightly surprised by the woman's violet eyes.

"Albus has said many nice things about you. I am sure we will get along well," she replied in a soft, slightly accented voice. She turned to Stephanie. "Thank you for coming here, Miss DeMattos. And you, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded. "So you're Deputy now, Professor Vandom?" River could see respect in the woman's eyes, and thought she knew why. The woman was small, but obviously powerful, and seemed to command all the attention around her.

"Call me Nashita. And yes, Galatea gave up the position some years ago, and I was next in line, as Cuthbert is...ah...'getting on a bit,' as I believe you say." She shrugged and turned to Armando, holding out the papers to him. "I took the liberty of signing these for you."

"Isn't that illegal?" asked Armando, flicking through the papers idly before giving it up as a bad job and letting them flop down into their original position. "And is my signature that easy to forge?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second. Quinn showed me how he forges it." Armando rolled his eyes, and she smiled before continuing. "Anyway, it doesn't strictly matter who does the paperwork, as long as it gets done. What the Ministry doesn't know won't hurt them," she continued, waving a dismissive hand and glancing at Minerva and Stephanie. "It's better than having these," she tapped the papers with one finger, "turned in a month late. Speak of the devil, Quinn's in the staff room. He is acting strange again."

"We noticed," agreed Albus.

"I'll talk to him," muttered Armando, distractedly running his free hand through his hair. "For now, I'd better file these- Albus, if you could kindly show these ladies the staff room, I'll be back in a minute." He set off up the marble staircase, followed closely by Nashita, who muttered something about "more paperwork."

"All right then," said Albus brightly, clapping his hands together. "Minerva, I think you will find that we have several changes in staffing." He began to climb the marble staircase. "The Great Hall is right through there," he pointed to a large set of doors to their right, "and the Hufflepuff common room is through a passage below us, which also leads to the kitchens. The Slytherins are in the dungeons, through that door. But– do you even know what I'm talking about?" The question was addressed to Stephanie and River, but more so to the latter.

"Yes; the four Houses. I, ah, did some reading. Admittedly, I'm still a bit lost on how the Houses are assigned?"

"The sorting hat," replied Minerva. "It was Gryffindor's, you know. Anyway, first years put it on and it tells them where they belong. It seems to read your mind." She realized not for the first time that the sorting process made up one of the stranger wizarding traditions.

Albus elaborated slightly on Minerva's explanation as they turned a corner, walking in the opposite direction of Armando and Nashita. "It's going to take me a while to get used to this," observed River as they turned several more corners.

"Don't worry," said Minerva dismissively. "Getting lost is a right of passage. You'll find it's a lot easier to get around than it seems. The portraits and suits-of-armor move, but things like tapestries and doors don't...Most of the time." They stopped in front of two rather gruesome gargoyles.

"Sinatra," said Albus, and the gargoyles moved aside to let them through, just as Armando came striding down the corridor with another, unfamiliar man who was saying something that became more and more discernible as he came closer.

"Well if that's it then I'll head down and tell Hagrid and Ogg- they'll be happy to take care of it, and I'm sure Terra could use one for class." The second man walked straight past them before seeming to notice River. He turned on his heel to face the small group. "You'll be the new DADA professor, then?" He grinned and stuck out his hand. "Damien Prewett, I teach Muggle Studies. Wonderful to have you here." Damien was a gangly man with red hair and a shocking amount of freckles.

"It's wonderful to be here," replied River, shaking his hand. Damien smiled.

"And I suppose you'll be aurors," he hazarded, nodding at Minerva and Stephanie after glancing at their uniform robes.

They both replied in the affirmative. "Minerva McGonagall," said Minerva, sticking out her hand. Stephanie followed suit, and after shaking both hands Damien excused himself.

"Sorry, but there's a kelpie in the lake- not my specialty, but the groundskeepers need to know- Armando, if you see Terra-"

"I'll ask her to join you, yes."

"Oi, just gonna sit 'ere all day, are we?" asked one of the gargoyles. Armando glared at it rather icily before opening the door and ushering everyone in.

The room was large, but cramped due to the variety of objects that covered it, both living and otherwise. A wardrobe stood in one corner, and a radio sat on a rickety table in another. Numerous mismatched armchairs, futons, stools, and sofas were scattered across the space. A ornate fireplace illuminated the room and knocked off the chill that an early autumn had brought.

Several people looked up as they entered. Quinn was sitting in a corner, reading what looked like a letter. After glimpsing Armando, he tucked it into an inner pocket.

"Good morning, everyone" greeted Armando. Quinn reached over and turned a dial on the radio, which Frank Sinatra's voice had been crooning from. River was rather surprised to see that Armando did not seem to be even remotely close to being the eldest member of the staff, a common trait in head teachers.

Meanwhile, Armando was introducing everyone. "-DeMattos, and Miss McGonagall, whom I believe many of you will remember," this generated several nods, waves, and smiles, especially from a rather plump man dressed in velvet in a large, squashy armchair, "and Professor River LaBorde, the newest edition to our staff." River felt every eye in the room focus on her. She made a concentrated effort to smile, but decided against opening her mouth. These teachers were among the best witches and wizards in the continent, if not the world; some of them people whom she had respected since she was a child. Best to keep quiet, lest she sound like an idiot. Armando began making introductions.

"Leona Harp, Ancient Runes." A strawberry blonde woman smiled at them. "Master Vigo Black, Quidditch." A tall, burly man with a thick black moustache raised a non-committal hand from behind a dog-eared copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. "Terrasa McAlister-"

"Just Terra," corrected a red-headed woman surrounded by what seemed to be lesson plans. "I teach Care of Magical Creatures."

"Yes, and Damien could use your help; there's a kelpie in the lake," stated Armando. Terra seemed to perk up.

"Wonderful! I'll head right down-" she waved her wand at the lesson plans, which did little more than flop over, moving into what could vaguely be described as a pile, then left, pausing only to shake the newcomer's hands.

"Well, now that has been taken care of... Henry Abercrombe, Herbology." A short and round man rushed up to shake their hands, muttering 'pleasure, pleasure' all the while. "Horace Slughorn, Potions." The well-dressed wizard who had been smiling earlier waved an airy hand.

"LaBorde, did the Headmaster say? Why you couldn't possibly be from the family of French Healers-" River nodded and the man's gooseberry eyes widened. "But then, my dear, surely you're wasting an incredible amount of talent-"

"I've found that the only way to grow is to challenge preconceptions," River responded quickly. Slughorn pursed his lips, clearly nonplussed, but nodded nevertheless.

"M-"

"Milo Mycenese, Divination," interrupted a very tiny, wrinkled wizard with pure silver hair and eyes. "I foresaw your introduction, Armando. Now I'd best be getting back to my rooms, if you don't mind, all of this activity is crowding my inner eye." He left just as Terra had done moments earlier.

"Well then... you've already met Quinn, who else... Ah, Cuthbert Binns, History of Magic. Cuthbert?"

The man was asleep in a ragged chair near the fire and didn't hear Armando's announcement.

"Cuthbert?" This time it was Quinn who spoke. Master Black sighed, folded over a page and put down his book, then poked the old man, who gave a rather loud snore and woke up.

"Wha'- oh, hello, ladies!" he exclaimed in a dry, weedy voice. Several people chuckled.

"Of course, there are several more staff members here- our Arithmancy professor, Hunter Talbott, is in London working on a project for the Ministry, Celia Minacoss, the Librarian, is..."

"She left as soon as Vigo pulled out that book again," Leona divulged, pointing at the ratty copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, in which the Quidditch Master was once again absorbed in. "Says she can't bear to see the condition he leaves it in." Vigo grunted carelessly, as if to say it was his book, and therefore his business.

Armando responded to this as if it was perfectly normal. "I'm sure Naomi Winfred is in the Hospital Wing preparing it, and our groundskeepers are undoubtedly helping get that kelpie out of the lake..." he trailed off.

"Jim's avoiding everyone like the plague," Quinn offered, trying to be helpful.

"Nothing new there," muttered Leona.

"I was actually thinking about how insane they'd have to be to go to the lake in this weather." His brow creased slightly, wondering if they somehow hadn't noticed the storm.

"They're probably using Quinn's charm," Vigo pointed out. Quinn's mouth twitched, and for a second a triumphant look crossed his face before it was replaced with his former, blank expression.

"Right. Anyway, our caretaker Mr. Brown is also here," finished Armando. "For now, however, I expect you would like to see the rest of the castle- or most of it; I don't think anyone's ever seen the entire thing."

"That sounds wonderful," River replied, and the other two agreed.

"Has anything changed?" Minerva asked Albus as they exited the staff room. He smiled.

"Not that I have noticed, but you never know," he responded quietly. They were walking slightly behind Armando, River, and Stephanie.

The corners of Minerva's mouth twitched. "Good."

"Are you saying this as a student who detests change, or as an auror who now knows the territory?" asked Albus, his eyes twinkling.

"Both, I suppose," she replied, glancing at him with a smile playing on her lips. Albus was one of the few people who could make her smile these days, especially when she was on duty, when she strived to be as serious as possible.

She brushed a loose hair back behind her ear. Albus watched her carefully.

"What happened to wearing your hair down?" he asked. The sleek bun that she had pulled it back into fit her, but Albus couldn't recall having seen her with the severe style before.

"Interesting story, there," she admitted. "First of all, we have to have it completely up when on duty- Caterdily's rules-" Albus glanced at Stephanie, who was up with River and Armando, who was talking animatedly. Her dark curls were spilling down a few inches past her shoulders. "Technically, we're not on duty until tonight, and no one's here to see anyway," Minerva clarified, following his gaze.

"Yet yours remains up," he again pointed out, not letting her off the subject. She stopped walking. He looked at her, slightly perplexed, but she motioned for him to stop too and watched the other three round a corner before reaching back. Her hair fell down, barely scraping her shoulders in some areas, falling several inches below in others. It was terribly jagged, as if she'd gotten a bad haircut.

"There was a raid on a meeting of underground Grindelwald supporters a few months back. Moody and I caught them. Three men went for him; I was in animagus form. One made a break for it, so I transformed and we started dueling. I barely missed one of his curses, but my hair didn't, and this happened," she gestured to the jagged hair before scooping it up and starting to tie it up again. "Nothing I try can regrow it, and if I cut it evenly it just grows back overnight. Caterdily amended the rule to 'up', not just back, and I ended up stuck with an eternally bad hair day."

Dumbledore caught a strand she had missed and rolled it in his fingers.  
"Oh, don't pity me, Albus," she said, rolling her eyes and pulling the strand away from him. "It's hair. I'm lucky to have all my limbs. People are dying every day, whether or not I look fashionable hardly matters." He couldn't help smiling slightly at her temper, just as prevalent as it had always been.

"You're right, of course," he replied. "You generally are." They both turned at the sound of footsteps.

"Slow today, aren't we?" Quinn asked as he came striding down the hall, grinning in a sort of knowing way that reminded Albus of a cat that had swallowed the canary.

"We'd best catch up," agreed Minerva, and they walked closer to the group, Albus still thinking about the witch next to him.


	3. Chapter III

**August 27, 1944.**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, East Wing.**

Minerva McGonagall woke, more out of habit than from the buzzing of the vibrating pocket-watch beside her, before four. This part of the castle was a stuffy during summer, so it wasn't hard to abandon the warmth of her gently crinkled sheets and slide her feet onto the barely cool stone floor. She stretched her arms and back before quickly standing and flipping the sheets back into their flat, unwrinkled state, tucking the edges under the mattress. She knew that the House-Elves would be more than happy to take care of it, but making her bed was a habit, and Minerva did not easily break habits.

One final tug and the sheets were perfect. Swaying slightly as she tried to simultaneously walk and stretch her legs, Minerva set a copper kettle to boil using her wand, and quickly grabbed a tin of tea leaves, strainer, and mug and putting them together before pouring in the bubbling water and banishing the kettle back to a shelf. Breakfast, as always, wasn't until six; however evil generally didn't wait for the security to finish meals, which was why Minerva found herself up and ready for morning patrol- that and the fact that Moody had long since discovered she was naturally an early riser. She set the mug down and continued to the bathroom. After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and combing then pulling back her hair, she ventured back into the small "bedroom", a slightly blocked-off corner of the rest of the room, and pulled a set of work robes out of the wardrobe.

She stepped out of her nightdress and quickly slid the plain robes over her head. She frowned as she tugged at the material, wishing that they could be longer. Due to fabric cuts caused by the war, most newly made robes fell only two inches below the knee, if that. Wizards rarely robes at all, but often pants and a nice shirt with a light (or heavy, in the winter) cloak that came down to the length of women's robes. Minerva finally gave up on her brutally short robes, opting, as always, not to wear the 'leg make-up' that had come with the lack of nylons. She didn't have time for appearances, not when there was work that needed addressing. She grabbed her wand and walked out of her small quarters, greeted only by the empty hallways filled with morning air, cooler outside of the small room.

Nothing had changed about the castle itself, except for possibly the relocation of a few portraits and knights of armour, but those were always walking to different stations anyway. Minerva wasn't too certain that anything could be done to change the school. Nothing had been added to it in written history, with the exception of more efficient greenhouses and the hut that Dumbledore had requested be built for the boy who'd been expelled, Hagrid, but even those were on the grounds, and not strictly speaking parts of the castle.

Hallway after corridor after classroom after broom-closet, Hogwarts was quiet and empty. Even the ghosts seemed to be keeping out of sight. The only one that Minerva came across was the Bloody Baron, who nodded at her in a detached manner as they crossed paths. By six o'clock she had done a fairly thorough sweep of the most important parts of the castle, and nothing even remotely suspicious had shown up- just as she had expected. If anything was going to happen, it wouldn't until the students were here, when the most damage could be done; not to mention that, as she'd told Stephanie, the castle was filled with its own protections, as well as the ones Dumbledore and Dippet had set upon its boundaries. Maybe the aurors would be able to help in an attack, but Minerva was almost positive that they would not be the first ones to notice or react to what was happening, if it ever came to such a circumstance.  
Reaching the end of a corridor, Minerva turned on her heel to go down to breakfast for another cup of tea, then start her more private job.

Albus Dumbledore walked down a wide corridor, nearing the Great Hall and highly anticipating breakfast. There was not much going on at the school, it being summer. He'd just finished his latest research paper, and the war had reached a quiet point, which was why for the first time in months he was able to concentrate, quite undisturbed, on breakfast. He did hope the house-elves would continue to send up an extra bowl of brown sugar with his porridge, as they had last year. In the back of his mind, the question of why there were no new developments in the wizarding or muggle worlds resonated.

It took him several seconds to realize that there was a figure ahead of him, and a few more to recognize her as Minerva McGonagall.

"Minerva!" he called out, and she turned stiffly, then smiled slightly and relaxed.

"Good morning, Albus," she replied, standing in place until he reached her with just a few of his long strides. He offered his arm to her with only a moment's hesitation. This was a back way to the Great Hall, and his was the only office around.

She accepted the gesture with a slightly longer moment of hesitation, one he could see clearly in her eyes without the slightest probing through Legilimancy.

"I expect you've been up a while," he commented, thinking of Alastor's paranoia. She nodded.

"Since three-fifty. Moody is very insistent about rounds." For a moment she pursed her lips, as if in thought, before continuing, "Actually, come to think of it, he's very insistent about everything."

Albus chuckled. "I daresay I've heard more than a few interesting things about Alastor over the past few years. He's a shoe-in for head of the department though, is he not?" He shot her a sideways look, one auburn eyebrow raised.

"Of course; he's brilliant, the best auror the Ministry's seen in ages, if ever. Sometimes I wonder, if it came down to he and Caterdily in a duel, who would win?" she responded. The conversation paused for a second, as both lapsed into thought, then looked at each other.

"Caterdily." They both smiled ruefully. Albus couldn't bring himself to respect the woman. She was brilliant, with an incredible amount of raw power, and ran the department better than anyone could have expected in the current situation, but she abused her powers and influence farther than he could find excusable. He found himself reminded of the saying "the end justifies the means", and wondering not for the first time if it did indeed.

Minerva was inexplicably quiet on the subject, and Albus wondered if she had similar feelings about the woman. He was about to ask when she abruptly stopped walking as they emerged at the top of the marble stairs.

"What's that?" She was using her free arm to point to the centre of the Entrance Hall, at a large, crumpled black mass. She quickly unwound her other arm from his, looking around nervously for a second, then hurried down the stairs. They reached the object at almost the same time, and rather anti-climactically; a quick 'Wingardium Leviosa" from Minerva levitated the object, showing it to be a thick and very wet cloak. Instantly visible on her face was a look that Albus could remember her giving immature students of every age more times than he could count. "Where did this even come from?" she asked, about to release the charm. However, Scrimgeour chose that moment to come in from the oak front doors in a light blue oxford and brown slacks, dry except for the ends of his rather volumous hair. Dumbledore watched Minerva raise a careful eyebrow at him.

"Thanks," he said, grabbing the cloak out of mid-air while running one hand through his hair and not bothering to cast a drying spell on either. Albus noted that it wouldn't be of much use anyway, the fabric was covered in mud to such an extent that even a fierce Tergio charm would not match up to a proper washing. "Morning, Min-" the man yawned widely, thin face becoming even thinner and more elongated, "-erva."

"Morning," she replied cooly, still looking at the now dripping cloak. "Will you be joining us for breakfast?"

"Yeah, I think Moody'll let me off for a few minutes. I have to give this," he shook the cloak a little, causing a great deal of soil and water to spill to the ground, "to a certain someone first, though." With that he walked off, leaving a trail of brown-tinged water along the length of the hall.

Stephanie DeMattos walked along a corridor, exhausted though it wasn't even mid-morning. Quinn Grindelwald was beside her, and it was he she was following and talking to in hope that he was on his way to breakfast. She was starving.

"I can't bloody believe him," she growled, thinking of all the things she'd currently like to do to Scrimgeour. Most involved large, occasionally sharp objects and a place where the sun didn't shine. "First he skips his shift so that I have to work double, and now he expects me to do his laundry?" She shook the cloak, generating a wet slopping noise.

"Damn the man," replied Quinn cheerfully, or at least absentmindedly. It was early and Stephanie didn't really know, nor did she particularly care. She just wanted to eat, warm up, and go to sleep for at least another two hours.

"You know, as much as I've enjoyed your company, I feel no inclination whatsoever to interact with someone who only offers sarcasm in return to another's remorse," she snapped back, surprising herself a bit. Normally she wasn't able to speak coherently with so little sleep. Quinn looked unbothered.

"Who said I was being sarcastic? I didn't say I was being sarcastic..." he looked at her quizzically. Stephanie narrowed her eyes at him.

"Sarcastic people usually don't. It's something close to the point of the matter."  
"Fine, fine. I was being sarcastic, thank you Ms. Astute," he replied, heaving a fake pained sigh.

"What is that, some kind of superhero name? Captain Obvious sounds much better," she pointed out, ignoring the older man's dramatics. He nodded and raised his eyebrows.

"Certainly has potential. Anyway, though, you must admit you were the one to hide his cloak on the grounds in the middle of a storm," Quinn pointed out, quickly switching back to the subject of Scrimgeour.

"He's the one who faked sick so he could floo his girlfriend, knowing perfectly well I'd have to cover his shift!" denounced Stephanie, throwing her arms about so wildly that water and dirt from the cloak splashed everywhere.

"However... I'm out of arguments," Quinn quickly excused, seeing Stephanie's irate face and deciding he was sick of being sprayed with water. That had been at least the third time.

Stephanie hardly looked pacified. "Good. Because there is absolutely no bloody reason that Moody shouldn't fire him right here and now-"

"With the exception of the fact that you, DeMattos, are below Scrimgeour, and once again you, DeMattos, were the one to show immature temper, so you, DeMattos, are the one who would be sacked if any sacking were taking place!" The familiar voice of Alastor Moody joined the conversation as the stocky man came out of a side corridor to join the pair.

"Damn."

River LaBorde smiled as she ran a hand across the beautifully engraved desk in her new office. The airy room, located at the base of what she had been told was Ravenclaw tower, had come rather well-furnished. The curved tower walls were lined with bookshelves, interrupted only by, to the delight of the cold-natured woman, a large fireplace. Hanging above the mantle was a large portrait of an austere, dark-haired witch wearing an odd sort of tiara. An eagle sat proudly on her shoulder- or at least as proudly as it could with its head tucked under one wing as both inhabitants slept.

The woman's heavily lidded eyes cracked open and followed the professor's progress. The hawk did the same, occasionally ruffling its feathers or stopping to preen. River looked up from where her fingers were spread against the desk, and the portrait again pretended to be asleep, lifting a hand up to support her chin, elbow propped on the arm of her chair.

River smiled at the room for what had to be the hundredth time. The office, besides being larger than her previous two, was absolutely beautiful. She reached down into the trunk beside her and pulled out an armful of heavy, diversely bound books. The portrait again cracked one eye slightly, so as to study the titles. River had quickly unpacked her desk supplies using magic, but the books, as she knew from experience, would have to be taken care of by hand. A knock came from the door as she set the first of what would soon become many, many piles down on her desk.

"Come in!" she called, sizing the books up and determining where they would fit.

"Good morning, Professor." She recognized the voice of the headmaster, and turned from sliding a couple books into place on the shelf behind her.

"Good morning to you, Headmaster," she replied with a smile, sending the remainder of the books over to the first of the window-shelves before taking out another stack. "May I ask what brings you here?" He was completely calm and confident, just at ease as he'd been yesterday.

"Just checking in to see how you were getting along, and offer my assistance, if you have any use for it," he replied, hands clasped behind his back.  
-and caring. He wasn't wearing a cloak today, and she couldn't help thinking he was rather handsome, in his white button-down and black trousers, before mentally correcting herself.

"Oh, thank you," she replied, again sending a few books at a time soaring to their places before digging out more from the vast, and obviously enchanted, trunk, "but this is nothing special, I think I can manage. You must have far more important things to do, anyway-" She shifted the piles on her desk slightly, knocking half the books off.

"Nonsense," he said, smiling warmly and kneeling to help her sort through the mess of texts. "Really, I don't have anything better to do that Nashita won't take care of, and you could clearly use a hand." He watched her expectantly, his brown eyes thoughtful as ever.

"If you insist," replied River, rolling her eyes at herself as she managed to knock over more books, "I would love your help. Are you always so insistent?"

"But of course," he replied, raising an eyebrow as he hoisted a large stack of charm encyclopedias off the floor. "It's in the job description." She laughed, and gestured to a shelf. He banished the books. "Also, feel free to call me Armando."

"Of course, Armando," she replied, clearing her desk before she could do any more damage. She flicked through an unlabeled book that she couldn't remember purchasing. She was having immense difficulty addressing the Headmaster by his first name- he was her superior, her boss, and much older than her. She wasn't used to having personal relationships with more than three or four of her fellow staff members, not to mention someone who outranked her by that much. Hogwarts was shockingly different. The faculty seemed more incorporated, and the Headmaster was incredibly friendly with everyone. She set the book down on the corner of the desk to deal with later, and turned to back to its innumerable brethren.

"So I see you read," commented Dippet, teasing. River smiled. The unnecessarily immense number of books she owned had earned her much ridicule not only in her years as a student, but also in her adult life.

"Just a bit," she replied. He laughed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of; to be well-read is, more often than not, to be well-rounded. I'm the same way," he assured her. "Besides, it's nice to see books on these shelves again." Unnoticed to the two, the portrait nodded her earnest agreement.

"Oh?" River glanced waywardly at the portrait, which she could have sworn she saw move out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't imagine having such an office and not making use of the space.

"Yes, Galatea never had many books, I don't think he was patient enough to be an avid reader," explained Dippet, referring to Professor Galatea Merrithought, whose spot on the staff River had inherited. "These have been near-empty for eleven years."

"Whose office was it then?" She looked up at him from where she was lifting a few particularly heavy tomes from the trunk, curiosity piqued.

"Mine," he replied, smiling at the surprised look on her face.

"This was your office?" she knew he had just stated the fact, but it was still odd to think of him as anything other than the headmaster.

"Yes," he nodded, "before I became headmaster. It's supposed to be used by the head of Ravenclaw-" the identity of the woman above the fireplace became instantly apparent- "but Nashita wanted to keep the office that she has in the Astronomy tower, so it went to Galatea as the next-oldest, non-house head.

"I can't imagine why she wouldn't want this one," River confessed.

"She claims it has a better view." River could feel his eyes following her as she glanced out of the windows to the forest, lake, and mountains beyond their glass, her eyebrows arched. "Perhaps I should elaborate. She never specified, but I think she meant it had a better view of the Quidditch Pitch."

River still looked confused, and the corners of Armado's mouth twitched. "You'll see my point soon enough, I expect." The shelf behind River, as well as the first of the four near the windows, was now full. She looked at the trunk, then at the shelves for a second before reaching a decision.

"Well, I suppose now that the destinations are more limited, this'll be safe," she rationalized, stepping behind the trunk and waving her wand at the remaining books. They all rose and levitated to their places, though it took a great deal of banging and pushing for them to settle.

"I take it by your hesitation that you've had bad experiences with the banishing charm?" Dippet asked, eyebrow raised. River laughed hollowly.

"Yes, you could say that. You?" He nodded somewhat solemnly.

"When I was transferring my things from my office before this one. Ended up knocked out cold in the dungeons by a copy of One-Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Had a lump on the back of my head the size of an egg for a week," his face twisted in memory, and he absent-mindedly rubbed the back of his head. River bit back a laugh. She'd learned in a similar situation just how much getting hit by a 2 or more kilo book hurt, as well as how humiliating it was.

"Ouch. I'm sure Quinn throughly enjoyed that," she said instead. She'd spent several hours talking to the Charms professor the previous night, and he had told her endless stories, almost all of which seemed to center around the humiliation of anyone but himself.

Armando laughed, the sound echoing in the circular room. "That was before Quinn's years here, thank Merlin. You're quite right; if he did know I'd never hear the end of it. You won't mention anything, will you?" he asked.

"Not a word. You can trust me," she replied, meeting his eyes half over her gold-framed, square spectacles.

"I do," he answered simply, and after a second in which she looked a little surprised by the resonance of honesty in his answer, he pulled out a large, gold pocket watch and sighed. "Sadly, Nashita does not trust me. She wants to go over a few things before meeting with the governors this afternoon. I'm afraid I need to go."

"Naturally," she replied, hopefully keeping the small tinge of disappointment out of her smile. She found that she quite enjoyed his company. "Thank you for stopping by, and for your help. You saved the spines of many a book today."

"It was my pleasure," he replied, returning her smile. "Actually..." he hesitated, but only for a moment, "I enjoy knowing my staff as people, more than professionals. It's a great benefit of the job, and I quite regret that it was Albus who had the chance to interview you, and not myself. I'd like a chance to make it up to you, to get to know you as well as I do everyone else," Armando hesitated for another moment. "Would you care to join me for dinner or coffee, perhaps in Hogsmeade?"

She knew her smile got a little wider as she replied, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, "That would be wonderful!"

"Splendid!" Was it just her imagination, or did he look a bit relieved? "Governors' meetings tend to take longer than is strictly necessary...Does, say, seven thirty sound alright?"

"I don't exactly have any other plans," River pointed out, an idiotic smile still on her face. He laughed.

"Well then, it's a date. I really must be going now- I shall see you later, Professor LaBorde."

"River," she corrected him.

"Right. River." With one last smile he turned and strode out the door.

"Good day, Professor Dippet," River whispered to herself, letting out a long breath and kicking the desk behind her. Ten years of managing to keep work and play separate and she found herself making doe-eyes at her boss. Idiot. She spent another few minutes picking apart their conversation and mentally berating herself before straightening back up.

The last shelf hardly had anything on it, but she was certain that could be easily remedied after a few paychecks and research ideas. Speaking of which, she had a half-written paper on the cross-effects of combined defensive spells that needed touching up and finishing, her quarters needed to be unpacked, and she had barely even touched the second-term lesson plans for her fourth-through-seventh years.

"It's a DATE!" cried Stephanie, voice shrill with amusement as she cackled hysterically, finally fully awake after a short nap.

"No it's not," frowned LaBorde, staring at her as if she'd entirely missed the point- well, in River's eyes she probably had.

"A single man asks a single woman to dinner to," here Stephanie began to make finger quotes, "'Get to know her better.' That's a date," she explained slowly and sagely, as if she was talking to a four-year-old. River ignored her.

"It's work related, and therefore not a date. If it were a date, he wouldn't have mentioned the rest of the staff, or how well he knows them," replied River, gesturing rather sharply. Stephanie surveyed the long corridor they were in as she replied. "All I did was tell you why we couldn't have tea tonight, why are we even talking about this? I have work to do."

"No," Stephanie continued, completely ignoring River's protests. She drew out the word as if to emphasize her contradiction, "mentioning work and comparing your relationship to that of him and the rest of the staff gives him a clever ruse. He's asking you out on a date, but on a fake, work-related premise so that if you don't return his feelings, you'll never need to know he had them." On the last word, she lifted her wand from her side and jumped around a corner with it held up. After a second, however, her shoulders slumped and she began to walk again. "Just a suit of armor... could have sworn it was moving."

"It probably was. Minerva said they can walk," replied River, though her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Right," muttered Stephanie. "Damn. Why didn't I remember that?" She was annoyed. Years of training had taught her mistakes and forgetting little facts or details cost lives, and the knowledge had made her (like the rest of the department) rather paranoid.

"It's a new place, new things, tons of new information. You're just strained," River reassured, sounding just as distant as before. Stephanie just stared ahead and grunted, still unsettled. "Anyway..." River's voice trailed off as the auror contemplated the fact she was getting to be just as insane as Madman. This could end badly.

"Right, we need to gossip about your date. Isn't the Headmaster just dreamy?" Stephanie had again stopped walking, this time to widen her eyes and wiggle her fingers dramatically in River's face when she turned to her. The Professor gave her a look generally reserved for supporters of the theory that Muggles evolved from toadstools, or fourth-year girls.

"Actually, I was thinking of how to fill a gap in the fourth-year lesson plans."

"Oh Merlin, here we go again with your I-can't-have-emotions-and-be-a-feminist shit, you should date McGonagall instead of Dippet, you two would get along just grand-"

"Stephanie, for the last time it is NOT a date! I don't even want to know what goes on in your mind so that you can twist-" River was ranting now, arms held out palms open in a way that clearly displayed her annoyance.

"Yes it is, and you're too sensitive to even try-" Stephanie interrupted, beyond exasperated.

"It's dinner! People have to eat, and some like company-" Stephanie ignored her condescending tone in favor of calling out to the tall, slim form coming down a staircase behind River.

"Oi, Minerva, Dippet asked River to dinner. That's a date, right?" The blonde woman closed her eyes and moaned before spinning around to face Minerva. She opened her mouth, clearly about to again correct the situation, but after a second shut it and waited for Minerva to speak.

Her forhead crinkled slightly as thin eyebrows pulled inwards. "Of course not, that's ludicrous. He's the Headmaster, for Merlin's sake, it'd be completely inappropriate," she replied, giving them both a look that implied the very idea was ridiculous.

"Thank you!" cried River, turning back to Stephanie. "See?"

"No," she answered plainly, still paying attention to the other auror. "He asked her to Hogsmeade, not his office or anywhere in the castle- AND he's trying to get out of a governor's meeting early for it," she further explained in a way that indicated this made a world of difference.

"He never said that," corrected River, not bothering to start arguing with Stephanie again but instead looking at Minerva. "She's insane, just ignore her-"

"Trust me, I try," the dark-haired woman assured, raising her eyebrows at the unfazed brunette across from her. She didn't care in the least.

"It was implied, River here's just too thick to notice-" Stephanie saw the woman beside her's wand arm twitch before she repeated the theory she'd used as a quickly dismissed argument earlier. Minerva looked no more convinced than River had.

"Dippet's inhumanly honest, and I don't think he has a single manipulative bone in his body." Minerva shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Professor LaBorde's right."

"River," LaBorde muttered in correction, and McGonagall nodded. DeMattos was still quite entirely unconvinced, but stopped arguing, deciding it would be easier to make her friend see the truth after the event in question had happened anyway.

"Right. Well, have either of you seen Al-Professor Dumbledore?" continued Minerva crisply.

River shook her head 'no' as Stephanie replied, "Yes, he was walking over by..." she gestured hopelessly. "A floor up from the staff room, there's a big statue-"

"His classroom," nodded the other auror, finally descending the last few steps on the staircase and heading that direction. "Thank you."

"Wait," instructed Stephanie, and Minerva stopped and peered back over her shoulder, again raising her eyebrows, "what's that?" She gestured to the thick velum folder the woman was holding in her long fingers.

"What, you think Moody would actually do his own paperwork?" she by way of reply, flicking open the folder and holding it up to reveal many sheaves of parchment. Stephanie winced and stepped back as if it were a rabid animal. "I suppose I'll end up doing yours too," Minerva added, rolling her eyes.

"Who, me?" Stephanie put on a look of pure innocence. "Why, they never give me paperwork, just this hideous wallpaper. If I've told them once, I've told them a thousand times: I don't want it! The handwriting is so seventeenth-century..." she trailed off as Minerva continued to walk down the hall, and turned back to River, who was being unusually reserved. "I still think it's a date, you know."

"For some odd reason I figured you would. But..." she sighed and dropped the sarcasm. "That's not even really the point."

"Then what is?" asked Stephanie, now a bit more genuinely interested. River shook her head. "What?"

"If I tell you, you'll laugh and spend the rest of the day, if not my life, tormenting about it, forcing me to stay up at night wondering why the hell we're friends in the first place," answered River truthfully. Stephanie couldn't help laughing a little.

"Yeah, well you know you love me and you'll tell me eventually," she smirked. River's often self-inflicted solitude left Stephanie as her only outlet for close contact.

"What if I want it to be a date? It's been a while, this is a fresh start, maybe I should try to be more involved." she asked after a moment's silence, not expecting a coherent response. Surprisingly, one came after a second's stunned silence.

"You're serious?" River looked at the woman, whom she'd expected to be in fits of hysterics by now, and nodded. After another silent pause, she burst into laughter as the Professor walked away.

Minerva reached her mentor's classroom and knocked on the door. There was no reply. She briefly considered going on to his office, but decided instead to check the room first. She cracked the door, revealing a room as familiar as the back of her hand. The only differences the years had made were a few new tomes on the bookcase in a corner, and the contents of the small crystal candy bowl on Albus' desk. The bits of red licorice, chocolate buttons, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and all the other candies that she could remember being offered as a reward for both good answers and successful spells in the class had been replaced by something wrapped in a chocolate brown wrapper edged in white that read 'Tootsie Roll'. She thought for a moment before slowly reaching to pick one up. Albus' taste in candy was dubious, at best, and she didn't much care for anything very sweet. These, however, appeared to be Muggle. She unwrapped the small candy by pulling at its edges and dropped the wrapper into the rubbish bin before popping the brown cylinder into her mouth.

It wasn't terrible at all, she thought, just a bit too hard to chew. Again her eyes swept the classroom, this time coming to rest on the front-and-center desk that she'd sat in for every lesson for seven years. Sitting on top of it was what appeared to be a magazine and a scrap piece of parchment.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Minerva walked over to it, and was shocked to see her name before smiling.

Minerva,  
I've gone to Diagon Alley to pick up a package at Flourish and Blotts, and won't be back until dinner. I would enjoy a chance to speak to you afterwords, in my office if you're free.  
Yours,  
Albus

She smiled as she traced a finger over his large, loopy signature. The note wasn't much, something she'd normally throw away, yet she slipped it into her pocket before turning to the magazine.

It was a copy of Challenges in Charming. Three articles were featured on the plain cover: a piece on easing the after-effects of memory charms by Barnaby Lockhart, a rather intriguing argument written on the advantages of charms over transfiguration in dueling by who the journal referred to as 'dueling champion' F. Flitwick, and finally a portable, weather-proof shield charm developed by Professor J. Q. Grindelwald.

Minerva frowned at it, wondering briefly what the Professor's real first name was before rolling it up to read later. For now she needed to get an owl to Caterdily. The idea of tracking Albus was no more appealing than it had been when she'd been assigned the task, but no doubt the head of the department would find out Albus was in London, and if the news didn't come from Minerva Caterdily would flay her alive. She headed up to the owlery, taking a small amount of the comfort in the fact that if the man was doing anything other than what his note said he'd easily be able to spot and knock out just about anyone following him.

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. It makes my day every time that I get one! The next chapter may be up late, because in two days I am moving to NEW YORK CITY to start college at NYU! So I will be spending time exploring the city, going to orientation events, crying because I miss my cats, not sleeping, and attempting to set up house in my little Fifth Avenue room.**

**I've had some fabulous questions about the story and the characters and am so happy that you are all reading this so deeply and thoughtfully! As John Green says, books belong to their readers- which is why this fanfic can exist in the first place- so it makes me so happy to hear everyone's interpretations and predictions. Here are a few odds and ends of pointless backstory for y'all to enjoy:**

**Insider is, among other things, an exploration of a wizarding world worried that its time is ending. The muggle integration is all very carefully calculated. From the Victorian times, a big hit with wizards across Europe and a great influence in a more trusting attitude towards muggles, the two societies began to move more in synch than they ever had before. **

**World War I was a huge war both in the muggle and wizard world, often in ways intertwined. Never having experienced a war of this magnitude and with poor strategy, the European wizarding communities were decimated. Close to an entire generation of wizards and witches were lost, leaving the kind of age gaps you can see in the Hogwarts staff- where there are very few in the age group of Armando and Albus (Horace would be it, actually. Vigo enlisted illegally, he was far too young and undertrained- if he wasn't a Black with endless resources and a family no one wanted to tell that their son had died, he wouldn't have made it. Hunter is a woman, and as such wasn't drafted. She did volunteer as a nurse for a while, but lack of any sort of bedside manner made her unpopular.) After that, similar cultures became necessary- half the industry that had formerly been there was gone, and the population outlooks were bleak. Hiding was harder. When WWII rolled around, the wizarding people avoided it at all costs, hiding from the truth- until it was almost too late. This is their story**

**I picture Caterdilly as a kind of cross (face-wise) between Eva Mendez and Olivia Wilde in structure, not so much beauty. She has that strong jaw and just the general...commanding looks. I forget if I mentioned it or not, but she has Latina skin (she's from Spain). Minerva is, at this point, the sole member of the squad to even attempt to keep Caterdily out of her head. She doesn't try to get into Moody's anymore, he doesn't block her but nothing makes since in there anyway... She smokes like a chimney when no-one's around, and occasionally when they are. She started after a particularly nasty break-up, after which she swore off men and picked up a pack of cigarettes instead... Incidentally, the same brand her former lover had used. They were more dependable, at least until war rations came along. Luckily, she can bully her way out of silly things like rations. Or anything, really. Just in case you didn't catch it, the mirrors were so she could make eye contact from anywhere in the room, so bam! Legilimancy. She is the only person in the auror force and one of only a handful in the Ministry who is an accomplished Legilimans. Surprisingly, her knowledge of Occlumency is only basic- perhaps since so few people are capable of its counterpart. As you can see, the squad seriously doubts her ethics, but they respect her in a sort of scared-shitless way- except for Moody and Minerva. Minerva finds her power and the extent to which she'll abuse it more than a bit unnerving, but won't back down. Moody just doesn't care, he's here to do a job and office politics don't factor into that very much.**

**The mention of River's relatives being medically-inclined is actually true in real life, since the 1600s the LaBordes have been famous for being a family of doctors in France and Louisiana.  
**

**Nashita is my favourite OC and one of my first characters ever.**

**Armando's looks are totally a cross between those of Humphrey Bogart and Christopher Plummer from The Sound of Music. In addition, I have an excuse for him being young– so, in the pensive Harry saw him as Tom did- fragile, weak, and essentially old. As for the portrait, Harry has all ready seen him this way and we normally see what we expect and know, not what is really there. Haha shuddup, all of you that are laughing. It made quite a lot of sense when I came up with it, a couple (read: almost nine) years ago. Also I am ignoring the movie-cannon that he is over 300 because that makes very little sense.**

**Albus is 6...3? I think, which is actually canon from before JKR changed his age. Judging by Armando being five years younger, he's 58, and only needs to wear glasses when reading. Ages are fuzzy here, though. There is still a definitive age difference between Albus and Minerva, but the Chamber of Secrets' first opening has been pushed back in time a bit- to before the war, at least.**

**Damian Prewett is Molly, Fabian, and Gideon's dad. Ignatius Prewett, who's on the Black Family Tree, is his older brother, who already has kids at Hogwarts.  
Quinn is Gellert's niece, Vigo is Gemini's (you'll meet her soon) uncle, who was burned off of the Tree for reasons, Henry Abercrombe is related to a kid who was randomly mentioned somewhere in the series, and there's lots of others once we meet the students- well, assuming I can find my naming charts. Otherwise, I'll have to start from scratch.**

**Leona was, as far as I can remember, my first character developed completely unrelated to Harry Potter. Her personality is, I think, a bit different in this story, but then again, so is Nashita's.**

**See y'all again soon!**


	4. Chapter IV

**Chapter IV**

**August 27, 1944.**

**Diagon Alley, London.**

Minerva McGonagall sat at a rickety table across from Flourish and Blotts. A hat was pulled low over her forehead, its brim shading her eyes, while the Daily Prophet blocked the rest of her face. She'd read through the paper seven times now, and was quite tired of it; especially with the knowledge of the new copy of Transfiguration Today which was in her bag and a well-stocked, despite the difficulties of transportation due to war, bookstore was across the street. However, a witch reading a brightly coloured academic journal or a overly large leather tome would draw far more attention than one simply reading the paper, and Minerva was aiming to be inconspicuous. It was said that the best way to hide was in plain sight, but there was no need to push the expression. Instead, Minerva found herself mentally correcting the most minuscule of grammatical errors in the publication at hand.

In happier times, it would be far easier to blend in with the crowds on Diagon Alley. She'd be able to walk, stretch her legs, read anything, even enjoy a small lunch or cup of tea. Now, the street was empty. Occasionally a Hogwarts student would hurry by, pushed on by parents before ducking into the nearest shop, or otherwise a harried looking warlock would pass, followed for several seconds by the sound of his heels clicking on the cobblestones reverberating across the empty street.

In many parts of the country, wizards carried on as if the muggle's war was as unimportant as a broken arm, something that could be healed in seconds and leave no lasting mark. In London, though, the consequences were unavoidable. It was easy to ignore fighting going on many miles away, across seas and even oceans. The fact still remained that there was little even wizards could do about having bombs dropped repeatedly over buildings that were hundreds of years old. There were spells, of course, and often Diagon Alley received little to no damage on the outside. Still, stores shook, and contents would lay scattered and broken. The apothecary had relocated to Hogsmeade in 1941, and every restaurant and food stand on the now slightly dented and cracked street had shut down from a combination of damage and the effects of rationing- The Leaky Cauldron being the sole exception. Even Gringotts' seemed to be leaning. Wizards and witches found it at first ridiculous that muggle inventions could cause so much destruction when faced with magic, but in essence magic was little other than concentrated energy- as were bombs. The two did not mix. There had been no air raids in a blessedly long time, but the trepidation still existed, and the wizarding community of London remained quiet.

Minerva turned another page of the paper as she noticed a worker staring out at her through the window. She didn't particularly care if Dumbledore was alerted to her presence; he'd known she'd be here or else he wouldn't have left the note. Anyway, knowing Albus, he was nowhere near Flourish and Blotts, but would let her know when he returned. Her goals were to avoid any commotion that could get back to Caterdily, and to make it seem as if Albus was blissfully ignorant of her assignment.

The bell abouve the bookstores' door chimed softly, and Minerva lifted her eyes to observe a very tall man with auburn hair exit whilst shaking hands with the owner and wishing him a good day. He had a brown bag in one hand, though from the way he was holding it, it was evident that he'd bought very light books, or something else entirely was hidden inside it. Albus was not one to use featherweight charms unless he had to. Respectable wizards could tell the difference between avoiding unnecessary discomfort and laziness.

Dumbledore turned around, and nodded very slightly to Minerva. She adjusted the way she was holding the paper so that four fingers rested on the outside. Albus turned sharply and began to walk quickly down the street, his heels clacking and echoing long after he was out of sight. Four minutes later, Minerva stood and followed, leaving the paper on the table and vanishing the hat back into the matter from which it had been formed.

She arrived in the Leaky Cauldron not more than five minutes later. A few inhabitants were scattered through the dark booths. Her eyes were drawn to the fireplace, which was full of green flames. She moved marginally closer to it, and found herself next to a hunched man in tattered clothes. His hands and face were as wrinkled as his apparel.

"Taking the floo too, are you? Well, ladies first, m'dear," the man wheezed, his grin showing a mouth full of half rotten teeth. Minerva was hesitant until she looked into his eyes- bright, clear blue eyes. Befuddlement cleared, she stepped into the tall hearth and felt herself spinning before she was able to utter a single word. She came to a stop viewing Dumbledore's office and quickly ducked beneath the mantle and into the small room. Dumbledore appeared seconds later, and proceeded to knock his head into the mantle whilst climbing out.

"Every time," he winced, massaging the spot as he sank into an overly stuffed chintz armchair. Minerva quickly stepped closer to him, brushing away his hand and replacing it with her own. "I'm fine," Albus assured her. "It won't even bruise." She could tell he was right, but still waited a moment before pulling away. "I expect you're curious as to what just happened," he continued, summoning a chair from his desk over to the fireplace.

Minerva sat down slightly reluctantly. She felt as if she'd been sitting all day. "I think I know," she answered. "As Hogwarts is protected, it's impossible to just floo into, but I couldn't be seen with you, or Caterdily would know that you are aware of my intentions. I would assume that you were able to floo here, transfigure yourself, then return and somehow clear the network for me to get through."

"To assume is to make an ass of you and me," Albus muttered absentmindedly. Minerva stared at him blankly. "Excuse me. Rather clever muggle expression. Nevertheless, you are correct. How did I transfigure myself back so quickly?"

"The protective spells did the work for you," mused Minerva slowly. "You were able to get out disguised, because departures are not monitored. Only arrivals. Nothing but polyjuice potion can keep someone disguised while entering, in any way."

Albus beamed at her. "I see you've done your research. Have the others?"

"Moody certainly has. I'm willing to bet he could tell you the middle names of any given professor's grandparents, as well as their own childhood dreams and detailed daily routines. He's almost unnecessarily thorough, and completely paranoid. Scrimgeor has most likely read the basics. I doubt that DeMattos has opened a report in her life." McGonagall frowned. Albus chuckled.

"To each their own." He was silent for a moment, staring at nothing. "I take it you can still transform?" Minerva fingered her wand without a second thought, feeling herself shrink and the near invisible hairs covering her body become thicker and longer. She padded over to Albus and, when he didn't look down, miaowed. He gave her a strange, almost pained smile. Minerva had an intuitive feeling that she could tell what was troubling him; her own mind was being overwhelmed with memories of days and nights spend in this office studying, working, practicing, and perfecting her efforts to become an animagus, more often than not in an unnecessarily intimate fashion. The waves of nostalgia were so strong that they practically hurt. She thanked Merlin that she was in this form, unable to speak and barely able to show outward expression. However, a question hovered towards the back of her mind, one that begged for an answer.

"Have things really changed so much, or was I simply that blind? It seemed like those were such better times." Minerva brushed a few stray hairs off of her robes. Even out of context, Albus understood her. He smiled.

"If you count a dark presence roaming the school and attacking Muggle-borns as better times..." he ventured wryly, tracing the embroidery on his chair's arm. Minerva couldn't help smirking slightly, even though she knew better. Whatever the Chamber of Secrets was and where it lay was still a mystery, and the days of its opening still haunted the back corners of her nightmares. "In all seriousness, however, yes. They were. Wars come and go, but as far as I can postulate, none has affected the moral of wizard kind so much as this one. There is a certain darkness that I worry shall lurk in our lives for many years to come."

Something about his words chilled Minerva down to the bone. "It will end. One day." She stood, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, now that I've fulfilled my daily duties of stalking you, I daresay Scrimgeour could use hand keeping his sanity. I'll see you at dinner, Albus."

"I look forward to it, Minerva. Could you please pass this on to Armando? He tends to take a walk around this time, I think it's highly likely that you'll cross paths." The witch nodded and accepted a small pile of letters from the bag Albus had carried out of Flourish and Blotts. He, however, did not let go. She looked up to meet his eyes. "Only if you want to, Minerva."

His meaning was as clear as crystal. Mail was monitored- whatever Albus was holding was top secret, unknown to the ministry. These papers were not something to review and paraphrase to Caterdily; they were to be passed unopened. This was a test of loyalty. The thought made her mouth thin slightly- she would have hoped Dumbledore knew clearly where her loyalties lay. Still, it was understandable; this small action could get her fired without a second thought, and without a job, where would she be?

"I know," she replied, maintaining eye contact and wiping any other thoughts from her mind. He relinquished his grip, and she brusquely turned and walked out of the room, knowing she was headed far deeper into this mess of a war than she had ever planned.

* * *

Professor LaBorde rounded yet another corner, and let out a small huff of air in frustration as she was met with an unfamiliar hallway. She had been lost for a good twenty minutes, and was getting tired of wandering around hopelessly with a stack of parchment in her arms, listening to the clack of her heels echoing off the cool stone of abandoned hallways. However, her pride would not allow her to sink down against one of the walls and just sit there until someone traipsed by, as she rather wanted to.

I'd probably starve, she thought, beginning to walk again. This place is gigantic.

A few turns later, LaBorde noticed the sound of a second pair of footsteps clicking brusquely, and silently thanked Merlin. Her relief faded, however, as the footsteps slowed and became quieter. She held the stack of parchment to her chest with one hand, lowering the other to slip her wand out of her sleeve. The footsteps were now barely audible, but did not have the fading quality of someone moving further away. A swish and flick levitated the parchment behind her, leaving her arms free. She did not bother consciously lightening her footsteps, as the hair on the back of her neck prickled- whoever was lurking nearby knew she was there, and perhaps acting unaware would catch them by surprise- but still, her movements became more fluid and controlled.

She whipped around a corner, wand raised, and found herself face to face with Minerva McGonagall. She quickly dropped her wand arm and held the other up, fingers spread. Aurors were paranoid, and would see anyone pointing a wand at them as a threat. Thankfully, Minerva was more cautious than her coworkers, or LaBorde had a nasty feeling she could easily have had her face blasted off.

"Sorry," Minerva apologized curtly. "This isn't a well-traveled part of the castle."

"I noticed," LaBorde replied with a wry grin. She tuned slightly and let the papers, which had drifted dangerously close to the ground, rise and flop back into her arms. "I was looking for Quinn. We exchanged lesson plans earlier, checking for repetition and such, and I need to return these to him."

Minerva couldn't help smiling slightly. "Well, you're three floors off..."

River groaned. "Thank Merlin I ran into you, I would have been up here for ages." They began to walk, Minerva leading. "You know... I've been contemplating teaching a unit on dueling to the fifth through seventh years. I think they would be awed to receive a few pointers from an auror. Would you be comfortable talking to them, if you had the time?"

Minerva looked a little surprised by the offer, but mostly pleased. "That would be nice," she replied. River smiled broadly. "I have to wonder why you didn't ask DeMattos, though."

"Teenagers are rebellious enough as it is, thanks. I'd rather maim a unicorn than let that woman put so much as a toe in my classroom, let alone have free reign." After several minutes of walking and idle chat about the upcoming year, they arrived at the passage housing Quinn's office and living quarters. River took extra care to memorize her surroundings.

* * *

The heavy rainfall had stopped for the moment, but the air still felt thick with moisture, and a bitter wind whipped around, the tall grass on the grounds and bending the trees of the Forbidden Forrest. The lake waters were choppy, and Armando found that even several feet away, stronger gusts would bring a spray of water up to meet him. Still, he kept his position, idly watching Ogg, Tara and Damien attempting to extract a wayward kelpie from the lake, one of the long-term school governors by his side.

"And where is that blundering oaf you insisted on hiring?" the governor sniffed, hand resting on his cane. "I would think he could crush the bloody thing with one boot."

"Hagrid," Armando replied, emphasizing the boy's name, "is taking care of Ogg's usual duties while he is otherwise occupied. This storm has done a great deal of damage, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Well I don't like him being unsupervised. He should be watched at all times- he is on our payroll, after all." A shriek came from the lake as the kelpie dove down, splashing the three with frigid water.

"Actually, Abraxas, I believe he is on my payroll. His humble wages come out of Albus' and my salaries. Ogg has also been known to slip him some pocked money," Armando replied cooly, for once wishing the meeting would reconvene early.

"Even worse. A man content to live off of donations from hard-working superiors."

Armando was relieved that Minerva appeared a short second later. His tongue was beginning to bruise from biting it so hard.

"Headmaster," she nodded, ignoring the blond figure beside him. "Your cousin owled you a letter. Albus was going to bring it to you but I was on the way to my rounds and thought I'd save him the walk."

"Thank you, Ms. McGonagall." He tucked the letter into his cloak without glancing at it.

Abraxas, meanwhile, was looking at her in disgust. "A woman? They sent a woman to protect Hogwarts?"

"And it appears they sent a slimy pseudo-politician with no qualifications other than a pocket full of galleons to defend the educational rights of the next generation. I suppose we are hopeless on both fronts, Lord Malfoy," she replied scathingly. Armando suppressed a smile as she mouthed off to the man nearly three times her age. For all Albus' tutelage, he had never managed to stamp the Scottish tongue out of her in favor of his own, more hidden insults.

"I assure you that I, unlike you, possess the skills necessary to complete my job." He looked her up and down pointedly.

"Oh, yes, if only I were pretty enough to seduce the enemy and learn their secrets-" The deep toning of a bell down in Hogsmede interrupted their verbal sparring. Thankfully, Dippet thought. He had been starting to blush.

"And so ends our break. We'd best be getting back, Abraxas. Thank you, Ms. McGonagall." Abraxas spun on his heel and clipped back towards the castle, Armando still at his side.

Wonderful, thought Minerva, watching them walk away. I'll lose my job because of a school governor that has the whole Ministry in his pocket. If Dippet doesn't fire me for insubordination first.

Dippet, however, raised a hand behind his back, circling his index finger and thumb while raising his other three digits- the same Italian symbol DeMattos used to signify perfection.

**A/N: Sorry guys! College is hard. **


	5. Chapter V

**Chapter V**

**September, 1944**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Staff Room**

The next four days blew by in a flurry of parchment and minor disasters. Classrooms were redecorated, lesson plans finalized and turned into Nashita's beckoning hand, and the aurors settled into their daily routines. Nearly every member of the staff had argued with Alastor at one point or another over whether his team could be used for practical examples in class. Each time, he insisted that his coworkers were not toys. It was not until Armando reminded him of Galatea's demonstration with French auror Jaques Pollock, which had sparked Moody's interest in magical law enforcement, that he consented.

Each evening, everyone filed into the staff room, more often with the accompaniment of mead than not. A new pub, The Three Broomsticks, had been opened by two sisters down in Hogsmeade after the Haughty Hippogriff had closed last year, and the alcohol supplied by the younger sister, Rosmerta, became an instant hit.

River hesitantly joined the social hour at Leona's bequest, normally holding a book or half-finished paper along with her wine. DeMattos wandered in when her patrols brought her down the adjacent hallways, taking a moment to discuss Quidditch with Vigo, or else talk quietly with River about the muggle front of the war. Both were half-bloods with extensive muggle connections. Minerva and Scrimgeour were often pulled in by various members of the staff wanting to catch up on their star students, most often Horace Slughorn, who seemed to attribute most of their accomplishments to his own teaching prowess. Alastor adamantly refused any invitations to join the group until late into the night, when most everyone had retired to their chambers. Only then would he finally accept a nightcap from Armando or Albus.

The routine was a comfortable one, tinged with the strange mix of excitement and reluctance that came with waiting for the arrival of nearly two-hundred teenagers who would be thrilled to see their friends, but decidedly less so to greet their studies.

* * *

Quinn, as had become usual over the past several years, was unable to relax. His thumb traced over the fraying edge of the envelope hidden in his cloak pocket as he strode towards the library, intent on insisting Madam Minacoss order extra copies of Challenges in Charming for the scholarship students. He had loaned out his private copies last year, only to have them returned in poor condition. The chiming of a clock echoing through the empty hallways, however, changed his mind. The charms master changed direction and hurried towards the headmaster's office.

"Come in," called Armando, upon hearing the unique resonance of Quinn's knock at his door. He was sitting behind his large desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he shifted through papers. "The governor's demands for this school year," he offered by way of explanation as Quinn shifted papers until one of the other chairs was usable. "Tea?" Armando offered as his companion sat down.

"Not right now. I got another letter."

"The one you've been reading all week?"

"What? No... No. That was a job offer. Durmstrang wants me. Seems a little odd, given that they chucked Gellert out for being a lunatic..." Quinn trailed off.

"And you're thinking of accepting," Armando said, sighing.

"What, Western Europe? That wouldn't be any better for me and you know it. No, but it got me thinking. The Americas, all that. Escape." Quinn looked out the window, grimacing at nothing.

"We need you here. You're the best source of information we have at this point," Armando replied, finally setting down his quill and papers. Quinn shook his head in response.

"Anyway. Before Moody gets back from his meeting. It came this morning." He passed the letter over the desk, revealing a bandaged finger.

"The owl bit you again?"

"Yes. I swear the damn thing has developed a taste for my blood."

* * *

"Naomi, I need you to analyze this for me," Armando called to the woman across the Hospital Wing, holding up the letter. She turned around, wiping her withered hands on her apron. Her body was as wiry as her iron-colored hair, and she was hardly taller than five feet, yet something about her presence commanded respect.

"What, your hand?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"The letter," he replied, pressing the parchment into her hands.

"What do I look like, Armando, a calligrapher? Go get Celia if you need help reading-"

"It's written in human blood," he interrupted, regretting his decision to let her work at St. Mungo's over the summer. She always came back in a heinous mood. "I need to know whose. Last time I tried to do it myself, and ended up spoiling the whole process."

"Ah, this again," she sighed, fingering the parchment carefully. "Of course you spoiled it, potions can only get you so far. I worry our Professor Grindelwald is going to start to garner even more unwanted attention if he keeps attracting such strange mail."

"I agree, which is why I'd like you to please burn it when you finish."

* * *

River found herself rehearsing her opening lessons over and over again. The first years were easy enough to impress; most of them had never seen magic performed by anyone other than their families and were eager to learn. The six and seventh years had passed their OWLs and chosen to continue studies, so they were dedicated enough. It was the middle ages that were tricky, when being fascinated was for 'children' and the girl or boy next to them was more important than the rest of their lives.

She worked through her first lesson, seventh years, three times without using notes, speaking to the two cats in front of her. Her orange tabby had befriended a fluffy grey cat that she had been told belonged to Nashita. She sighed, out of ideas for improvement, then moved on to the fifth-year lecture, which had been giving her trouble. She stumbled through the first five sentences, squeezed her eyes shut, then started over. "blah blah blah, the start of many decisions- the start of your adult life- the start of... SHIT."

"Well, that's a negative way to look at it. Not saying it isn't accurate, but very negative." Quinn was leaning on the doorframe. River hid her face in her hands and groaned.

"Merlin. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see the cats' reaction to your more polished spiel. Tough audience. Really though, long enough to see you're going to be fine and could use a break." He paused for a moment. "I like to go down to the dungeons. There are some underwater windows down there. Terra goes and feeds the birds in the owlery. Armando walks out by the lake... Actually, now is around the time he'd be there."

"You're right. Fresh air sounds nice," River said, resurfacing. It wasn't a complete lie, but it came close. She wasn't the outdoorsy type, she preferred the warm comfort of a crackling fire or the musty smell that hung around libraries. Right now, though, the cool air was tempting. The company was a bit more tantalizing, but there was no need to admit that. She gave each of the cats a good scratch, then followed Quinn into the hall.

"And LaBorde?"

"Yes?" She had given up on getting Quinn to use her first name.

"Gallatea's been about as exciting as Binns for the past twenty years. They won't be too hard to impress. Don't worry."

* * *

River skirted the edge of the lake, squinting to look for any figures hidden by the misty air. Alas, she seemed to be alone for now. She stayed well away from the choppy water, until catching a glimpse of something glimmering against the dull rocks. She edged closer, curiously, as the thing almost slithered away- but it wasn't a snake... With a small yelp, she slipped on an algae-covered stone and fell face-first into the frigid water.

She reemerged flailing and gasping, in shock from the cold. The rocks were too slick to  
easily re-mount, and she found herself uselessly slipping around until an impossibly large hand grabbed the back of her robes and hoisted her up. When several quick blinks had not made the figure in front of her lessen in size, she tried to concentrate on making sure all her limbs were in order.

"Yeh wan' t be careful there, Profess'r. Yeh are a professor, ey?" River looked back at the humungous form in front of her, still having difficulty processing whether this was all real.

"Err... Yes. Yes, I am," she replied, trying to make her mind function through the damp cold. "River LaBorde. Pleased to meet you, er...?"

"Rubeus Hagrid! People 'round here jus call me Hagrid, though." She tentatively offered her hand, and was rewarded with a bone-crushing, overly enthusiastic handshake. "I see yeh were lookin' ah our kelpie. Tricky li'l bugger, he is. Don' think we'll be gettin' 'im out of there anytime soon. He's well adopted that lake- turned into a squid, 'e has, and a big 'un at that."

"Oh, that was the kelpie! I've never seen one." Never seen much of anything, she mentally added.

"River! I see you've met our junior groundskeeper," called a familiar voice. Armando was approaching from the shore, picking his way easily along the rocks. "And... er... You can't seem to come out here without getting wet can you?"

"That... That seems to be fairly accurate. He saved me from the kelpie, actually." Armando's eyebrows shot up.

"Are you okay? We should get you inside..."

"No, no no no, it was nothing, the thing was already swimming away. I only slipped, and Hagrid was kind enough to pluck me out," she explained in a rush. Armando had already cupped her elbow and was leading her back to the castle.

"I'd best ge' back to werk," said Hagrid called out after them. Armando waved distractedly over his shoulder. River tried to offer him a smile while simultaneously insisting to Armando that nothing was wrong.

"Look. Wand. Magic, remember?" She held up her dripping wand pointedly. "Exaresco." The wand fizzled a bit. "Oh, don't you start..."

"Do you mind if I...?" offered Armando.

"No, I can handle this, really..." she tried again, to a similar result.

"You really don't like accepting help from people, do you?" he sighed. "Here. You can use my wand."

"Thanks." She hesitantly tried the spell again, and her robes were instantly dry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," she said softly as he tucked his wand back into his clock pocket.

"Nothing to worry about. I'm used to dealing with Quinn, and he does mean to be." River laughed, slightly relieved. "Join me for a cup of tea?"

"Certainly," she agreed

"Those stones can be quite tricky, if it makes you feel any better," Armando reconciled, offering her his arm.

"Obviously not for you," she cajoled back. He had been walking as closely as possible to the water before detouring.

"I grew up on the Spanish coast. The rocks aren't quite as sharp, but they are certainly just as slick... Anyway, Quinn said you'd be down here. He said near the lake, not IN it, but I digress."

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," called a voice from the top of the Entrance Hall staircase. "Tara says that kelpie isn't coming out of the lake anytime soon. She said you might want to consider finding a new way to bring the first-years up."

Armando frowned. "The boats have been tradition for hundreds of years. We can't break that."

"Why don't you find a way to distract it?" suggested River. "You said the dungeons have some underwater windows, right?"

"Yes, in the Slytherin dormitories... That may actually work," said Quinn thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

"Good. Have Tara join you down there and see what gets its attention."

Quinn looked at Armando as if he'd just eaten a doxy. "I cannot bring a Hufflepuff down into the Slytherin quarters!" he replied, clearly scandalized. "No one from outside our house has ever set foot in that section of the castle-"

"Quinn, I was down there last week," replied Armando, nonplussed. Quinn's scowl deepened. "Well, I refuse.

"Tallyho, boys! Fighting again, are we?" called a woman from several metres away. She was Quinn's age, but already had grey hair, which she wore cut short around her chin.

"Hunter! Just the person I need. Hurry and put your bags away, we're going downstairs to relive old memories and, incidentally, stop a murderous beast from massacring the first years."

"Well, it's good to know I didn't miss all the fun." The woman shifted her luggage and held out a hand to River as she neared. "Dr. Talbott. Professor, too, but I like to use my muggle title. It takes a helluva lot more work when there's no magic to make numbers dance. You'll be River, then?"

* * *

The small, porthole-esque windows set into the stone wall granted the two Slytherin alumni a murky view into the lake. The kelpie, still in the form of a giant squid, drifted around lazily through the tall weeds.

"I don't know, it looks pretty harmless," commented Talbott, holding up a large fish she had transfigured from some unfortunate fourth year's pillow. She doubted the smell would leave, even if the shape did. She wiggled it around. The squid continued to ignore them.

"Alright, then, you can be the one to explain to grieving parents why their child was mauled and how they shouldn't sue the school..." Quinn set off a shower of brightly colored lights from his wand. The squid remained unfazed.

"Well, we're running out of options here... Do you think it's a male or a female? What if we gave it a companion?"

"Oh, you want a family of them swimming around! Great plan. Do squids even have sex? Or kelpies? I'm starting to forget what the damn thing is."

"Wait, they like pickles, right?" Talbott exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and retransfiguring the pillow. Maybe if she turned it into a potato before leaving, dreams of fish and chips would be the only result of residual magic... Quinn looked at her blankly. "You know, you throw the kelpie your name on a pickle, it won't harm you..." she trailed off.

"That's a myth, dear. Though we can borrow the class roster and throw forty-odd pickles in the lake if it makes you feel better." The sound of stone grinding against stone silenced them. "Oi!" said Quinn, outraged, as Albus appeared in the entranceway. "These are the sacred chambers of the students of Salazar Slytherin! No Gryffindors allowed!" Armando followed him in. "Oh, come on! Sacred!" Vigo followed the other two. "Vigo, tell me you didn't bring them down here-"

"Just wanted to see what the commotion was," the Quidditch Master pacified.

"You're disturbing the merpeople," Albus said calmly. "Scrimgeour had called me out for a consult and on the way I found the chief at the surface, screeching for anyone who would listen. I assured him I'd come talk to you."

"You speak mermish?" asked Talbott, wide-eyed.

"Of course he does," muttered Quinn, rolling his eyes. "We're trying to figure out how to distract this bloke," he continued, using his wand to point at the squid. It was currently rolling enthusiastically.

"So that's what this is about? The kelpie?" Vigo laughed. "Move over. I got this. Accio kelpie!"

The creature sped towards the wall and hit it with a resounding thunk, hard enough to make the room quiver. Everyone stood speechless as it slowly peeled its suction cups from the glass windows and swam away furiously, spurting a great cloud of ink after itself.

"Great. On the off chance it didn't hate people before, it certainly does now," Quinn deadpanned.

"I'll ask the merpeople to distract it for the evening," Albus said after a moment. "They owe me a favor."

* * *

"Human female. Young-definitely prepubescent. Ten would be my guess. Blood type A positive, and it shows markers for magic. Armando... Have you been following the papers?"

"You don't think it's the Fox girl?" he replied, the lines in his face deepening. "That hardly makes sense, does it?"

"You asked me to examine, I'm telling you what I found. Since you seem intent on the fact that none of this is coincidence, she's the best fit. And yes, before you say it, I know the rest were middle-aged German muggles. I'm the one who told you that, remember?" Naomi chided, cutting off a debate before it could even start.

"So you're saying Gellert is traipsing around Manchester, killing little girls?" interrupted Quinn.

"I'm not saying anything. If you'll remember, I wanted no involvement in this, and that hasn't changed. I've seen one war, and I've no interest in seeing another. Leave it to the Germans, and don't you dare say a word to the poor parents of that girl. Now off you trot, I have a Wing to sterilize." She shooed them away, frowning and shutting the door behind the duo.

* * *

**A/N: Looks like we're back to update Fridays until the semester begins anew. Honestly, there's a lot I want to say about this chapter (world building! Woo! Foreshadowing! Woo!) but honestly, my cat is being put down 1500 miles away from me right now, and I'm tired and horrified and trying to cope with the fact that when I left him two days ago he was completely fine and spent our last night wrapped around my neck like a scarf purring and kissed me goodbye and he's only 11. He collapsed out of the blue only hours after I flew off. Kidney disease is a fucking bitch. **

**So, yeah. I will probably write a note at the beginning of the next chapter. For now, if you're curious about the Fox girl, you can google the info given (Fox girl murder 1944 Manchester) like I had to in order to remember why the hell I used her, or else Sheila Fox. For now, enjoy. **


End file.
